I did NOT shmooze withÂ nervewrackingly famous writer types, harmonize with Dolly Parton, of make it to Hatch.

I DID delight in Irish whiskey and dirty limericks in the hotel bar, sleep 9 consecutive hours, and get a blister.

All in all, a reallyÂ good time!

My only real complaint about the festival had to do with book sales. For some reason, my picture book did not get stocked besides the picture books of the other authors on the panel. And while it *did* seem odd that the people lined up at the “signing collonade” all had all the OTHER books, and not mine…. I’m a newbie, so I just figured they didn’t want my book because they’d never heard of me.

But THEN the second to last person (who had a copy of my book!) explained to me that my book had been in another part of the book sale area, and that it had been COVERED UP by some other shmuck’s book!!!Â So then the very last person was all, “Oh!Â I was sad I couldn’t find it!” andÂ ran off to get one too.

And I signed it and realized that in all likelihood, all the OTHER people just hadn’t seen Slidy Diner. And might have bought it if they had.

Grr. Live and learn.Â Next time I will be sure my book is in the right place.